


What We Have

by GingerBruja



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, post argument, sherlock sulks, tiny hints of bondlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBruja/pseuds/GingerBruja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an argument, Victor Trevor tries to make things right between Sherlock and himself. Even if it means making a mess inside and outside the flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Have

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Small Hobbit for being my beta and for being patient with me. I also want to thank those who encouraged me to write again after three years and for being so enthusiastic about all the Victor Trevor head canons on tumblr. Anyway, here's my fic and I hope you enjoy it.

Sherlock Holmes wasn't the only resident in 221B with a penchant to destroy the flat. Though he did take the prize for creativity and accidental fires, right now Sherlock was only a spectator. His head peeked over the arm of the couch to stare at a damp trail of dirt left on the floor. From the foyer then up to the stairs that led to the roof, the thin trail of dirt had divided a part of the flat. 

From a distance, Sherlock heard the faint huff of displeasure from Mrs. Hudson. Victor is going to get an earful from the landlady tonight.

Sherlock turned his body again to face the back of the leather sofa. The smell comforted and was familiar as it helped drown out the smell of Earth. 

It distracted him from his afternoon sulk and he could not let that happen.

His annoyance grew as his longtime boyfriend, Victor, pounded his heavy worker boots up the stairs. Sherlock curled up closer to himself because stupid Victor was doing it on purpose. Of course he was, Victor found it funny to annoy Sherlock as much as possible because he thought it was cute. 

What was not so cute was how Victor had tried to ease the tension that was born from last night.

Last night there was a fight loud enough for Mrs. Turner to call Mrs. Hudson to see if she could do something to calm her boys upstairs. There was also broken glass. Words that cut and doors that slammed and shook the walls. All because of a promise broken by Victor. A promise to stay.

Sherlock hadn't been proud about how he handled last night's fight but he wasn't ready to apologize. It isn't his apology to make after all.

After memorizing the leathery pattern of the couch to distract himself, a cough coming from the doorway snapped his concentration. Sherlock turned around.

The sight of Victor carrying a heavy bag of compost on his broad shoulders greeted him and the sight before him was a bit too much to take. Victor looked quite disheveled. Shirt damp with sweat, dirt clung to his denim clad legs, and his dark hair pulled back just so. What's worse, Victor's arms flexed as they held up another bag of compost and he looked proud of himself at his own physique.

The added effect of Victor’s shirt pulled up enough to display his sculpted abs was even more aggravating. He knew what he was doing, the bastard. 

‘I hate you’ Sherlock thought as he felt his throat dry up at the sight. ‘I completely despise you.’

“Take a picture,” Victor interrupted Sherlock’s inner monologue. He shifted the bags enough to help him align his center of gravity. Or to flex his muscles just to spite Sherlock. “or if you would rather, use your video camera. Your Youtube channel will gain more viewers.”

Sherlock snorted at the absurdity the idea. “My viewers don’t need to see some lunatic dragging dirt all over my floor.”

“Like that’s any different from what you usually post.” Victor quipped, mocking Sherlock’s snooty way of talking back. “Now help me out if you’re done being mad at me.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Why would I join in this form of self punishment? Rather defeats the purpose if we’re both being punished.”

“S’not self punishment.” Victor had turned away from Sherlock and walked with renewed determination towards the stairs. He stomped and made exaggerated grunts with every step. The grunts grew louder as he went up just to add to his childish dramatics. “You’ll see.”

The self punishment went on for three days. Sherlock wasn't around for much of it since Lestrade was kind enough -or had caved in to Sherlock’s whining- to bring him a case. A rather interesting case involving a serial killer who turned out to be twins who took teamwork to another level.

But when Sherlock was home for whatever reason, the roof was host to a cacophony of hammering and loud angry cursing. Sometimes it sounded as if Victor could use a hand so Sherlock did what he felt he had to do. He played his violin.

On the third and last day, Victor had walked down with the air of self satisfaction. “All done.” He pulled his thick orange work gloves off then wiggled battered fingers. Ah the spoils of war. “The non-punishment is over sire.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes before he looked down at his new microscope, courtesy of Barts. “Hmm, is that so.”

“No no no.” Victor rushed over, then grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders, pulling him up from the stool. “I worked for three days on this with no help from anybody. I made a lot of neighbors angry so the least you can do is look.”

“Mrs. Hudson helped.” Sherlock pointed out as Victor led him up the stairs. 

“You’re right, I cheated.” Victor confessed. “Oh how can I live with myself! Mrs. H the traitor brought me tea and sandwiches. Clearly we need to have a talk with Mrs. Hudson about the breach of trust.”

Sherlock didn't seem amused with Victor’s liberal use of sarcasm but complied and let Victor push him towards the roof. 

It was dark outside, Sherlock had known that, so whatever Victor had done could have waited till the morning. It must be important for Victor to show Sherlock at this very moment. What was it? Sherlock at first guessed a shed of some kind, but that deduction had to be thrown away. Maybe a simple garden due to the massive amounts of compost and dirt Victor had lugged around. Which, to be honest, sounded spectacularly dull.

Victor wasn't known for his aptitude in building things. The man had a talent to destroy and shoot down anything that moved. Including on one memorable occasion, an ice cream van. But such was the nature of Victor’s job, so having him build something was very odd for the man.

“Alright.” Victor winked down at Sherlock, and cocked his head to the side to encourage Sherlock to move aside. He reached for the door knob with one hand and with the other, reached for Sherlock’s long pale hand. “Get ready to be so blown away by my brilliance. After this they’ll have to make our home into some kind of national treasure.”

Sherlock looked horrified. “Tourists in our flat? Disgusting.”

But before Sherlock could come up with another quip about tourists destroying his experiments like a pack of bumbling Andersons, Victor swung the door open.

Sherlock froze, his eyes wide with shock and he had to prevent his hands from flying up to cover his mouth.

“The bees were a devil to bring up you know. I’m so glad I’m not allergic, I got stung a couple times.” Victor waved his poor hand that was covered in colorful plasters Mrs. Hudson had placed on him, “or four. Maybe five.”

Sherlock grunted absent-mindedly as he paced further out on to the roof. He absorbed every detail in front of him. Savored the strange feeling of fresh grass between his toes, something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager. Then there was the fresh smell of flowers, the same flowers his mother had grown in her own garden. “You did your research.”

“Your mum said that she planted fennel so you could watch the bees. Then gave me a list of the types of flowers the bees liked. It’s a bit of a weird collection but I don’t think they care much.” Victor made his way towards the wooden hives that rested on the corner of the roof. Sherlock could hear the loud buzzing of the bees zipping towards their new hive. “There’s also some veg Mrs. H wanted me to plant. Told her you prefer aubergines and pumpkin and she nearly lost her mind.” Victor chuckled at the thought. Mrs. Hudson’s renewed incentive to feed Sherlock had sent her running to the bookshops to buy new recipes. 

“What was the motivation for the fairy lights?” Sherlock asked. He gestured flippantly with his hand towards the erect wooden posts. Each post had little glowing yellow lights coiled around them then suspended high above and across the roof to connect to another post. It was cheesy beyond belief but the effort was appreciated.

“Well the posts are there for the plastic covers for when it rains, the lights are for setting the mood.” Victor wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being flirtatious. Again the effort was appreciated. Somewhat. 

Sherlock breathed out a troubled sigh. “Why?” He asked. “You didn’t have to go this far to apologize.”

Victor wasn’t one who did things by halves. This was without a doubt the most sentimental display of affection Sherlock had ever received. It was something his father would likely do for mummy. A grand spontaneous gesture. 

“It’s a promise,” Victor broke Sherlock’s train of thought “a bit of a milestone.”

Sherlock threw him a furious look. “I've had enough of your promises.” He hissed sharply. 

“I know that.” Victor did look apologetic for bringing up the topic of their last fight. “I know that promising that I’ll never leave again is just…”

“-Moronic, illogical, wishful thinking by idiots-”

“Yeah all of those and more.” Victor agreed without any hesitancy. “I can’t predict when MI6 will want me out of retirement. Not until they find someone with similar skills. Um, anyway, I got this bright idea of changing our future plans.” Victor then walked closer to Sherlock then gently wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s slim waist. 

“You brought a piece of Sussex here.” Sherlock said, struggling to keep his voice as normal as possible. This grand gesture wasn't necessary. People did stupid romantic things on anniversaries and weddings or -no. No Victor wasn't going to do that. Was Victor really going to do that? “Oh for Christ sakes.”

“You figured it out I take it.” Victor squeezed Sherlock tighter before he turned the grumpy detective around to face him. Well, grumpy and reluctantly pleased with the turn of events. “So what’s your answer?”

The answer was obvious to both of them, so what was the point of asking. Yet it needed to be said or in Sherlock's case, shown. Sherlock, did answer in his own way by leaning forward to kiss Victor’s stubbled cheek, then by kissing his dry lips. He could just as easily have taken this kiss further into a more intimate display of affection but this was just as good. Better even.

It was so befitting that this moment, this milestone as Victor had called it, was being witnessed by the buzzing bees. Victor had known that proposing to Sherlock in public was just near impossible. If the media got wind that the famous consulting detective was dating an agent then things would become impossible for them to continue as they were. 

It was bittersweet that he couldn't share this moment with Lestrade, John, Mary, and all the others. People that had wormed their way into his heart over the years. It hurt to keep Victor a secret from everyone with the exception of Mrs. Hudson, his brothers, mother, and father.

“Y’know,” Victor began, “I sort of made a promise to your mum.”

Sherlock’s entire body stilled. “You idiot.”

Victor hummed. “She wants a big flashy wedding. Something like it’s her one and only chance to organize a wedding because Mycroft is a big stick in the mud and is going to die alone.”

“She didn't say that.” Sherlock chuckled. “The last bit.”

“No but it was implied.”

They would have to discuss how ridiculous the notion of an extravagant wedding was later tonight. Perhaps after they had headed back down stairs and rolled on the bed together. Right now Sherlock was lost to the sensation of being held by his oldest friend and partner. They rocked gently from side to side, enjoying the calming effect the motion had on Sherlock. A sense of peace so rarely granted to him.

“So it’s a yes, right?” Now the peace was broken. Victor had the audacity to ruin the moment by snapping Sherlock away from his rare moment of meditation. Sherlock grumbled aloud, “Yes you idiot.”


End file.
